


Secret Keeper

by catastrophage



Series: In Memory of Troy [6]
Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hinted Everything, Hinted Rape, Hinted Relationships, Hinted Suicidality, Homophobia, It's not all dark though..., Kids with guns, Language, Mentioned Alcohol Abuse, Mostly Pre-Apoc, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-30 19:42:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15103640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catastrophage/pseuds/catastrophage
Summary: Troy arranged a meeting with Gretchen down in the basement - she would store the head for him. She didn't ask questions, understood what he needed. He knew her innocence was a mere façade, and she knew that he knew.This ficlet expands Day 16 of theDiary of Sorts,but can also be read as a stand-alone.





	Secret Keeper

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! I was planning to write approx 2000 words for this, but I easily doubled it. This is the complete backstory of Gretchen and Troy - some carefully selected moments of their life growing up at the ranch. The story is free of shipping, but if you want so, I mentioned Troy/Mike and Gretchen/Jake - both onesided.
> 
> I'd like to send some hugs. The first goes to ToastyMage who really seems to need it. And I know you like Gretchen. I hid one of your inside joke in there, just for you.  
> The next hug goes to AndySpringer who had to endure my babble about the ranch kids age gaps (haha)  
> The final hug goes to Inkaley who was cheering for me and waiting for this update.  
> Thank you for your kind words and deep reviews all the time ♥
> 
> Oh yes and as a quick warning - I planned to write something light and fun, so naturally it turned out a bit darker again.

**Secret Keeper**

Back then, on a warm spring day, it had happened for the first time. The teens were playing near the well, Troy and Mike were digging a trench in a playful war against Jake and Charlene. They had assigned Jake to team up with the only girl, because he was the eldest. "And girls are naturally bad at playing war," Troy had said, earning a middle finger from the small blonde.  
The two younger boys were digging holes in the ground all afternoon, the others had left hours ago, but Troy was determined to build a flawless defense line. And then she came running down the hill - little Gretchen, just six years old, with braided hair and her frilly dress pulled up to her chest, revealing thick pink cotton tights. "Mikey come home!" she yelled. "Dinner time, Mikey!"  
"Yes Mikey, listen to your little sister," Troy scoffed.  
Cheeks flushed, an insult on his lips - he was barely able to keep it quiet enough so that Troy wouldn't hear him - Mike left the trench and went up the hill, ignoring the girl. He probably expected her to follow anyway.

But Gretchen didn't follow. She let her dress drop down and stared at Troy with big eyes. "What 'you doing?" she asked him, nervously reaching up to gnaw at one of her tiny fingernails. "We're at war!" Troy explained. He reached for her and picked her up by her waist with both hands, and let her down in the ditch he had dug. "We will hide in here, so Jake can't see us. And if he comes closer, we will shoot him. Bang." He formed a gun with his fingers and held it to the edge of the trench, to simulate shooting.

"You must not shoot Jake," Gretchen said, voice high and eyes growing even bigger. She hugged Troy and pressed her face against his stomach. "You must not! Jake is a good boy!"  
Then she suddenly went quiet. She had placed her hand on Troy's back pocket and could feel the revolver he had stuck in his belt. Her small fingers were searching the handle and pulled it out of his pants. Troy just let it happen. He didn't even dare to breathe, excited and frightened at the same time, by the discovery Mike's younger sister had made. One month ago Russell had given him the gun as a present for his birthday - he was not supposed to carry it for any other occasion than hunting, and even less to use actual bullets to play.  
Gretchen turned the gun around in her hands. She traced the barrel with her fingertip, and then turned it around some more to look at it from all sides. Troy quickly pushed the barrel aside, when she let it point at her own face carelessly. Startled by his sudden movement, she pulled the trigger. A loud shot could be heard at the well, and it resounded all the way to the houses.

Now it was on Troy to look at the girl wide-eyed. The sound of the shot still echoed in his ears. Gretchen was obviously panicking, her eyes watering up, and the corners of her mouth twitching. Troy first grabbed the gun, then held his friend's sister by the shoulders. He quickly examined her head, to make sure the bullet hadn't hit her. When he knew she wasn't hurt he started shaking her. "Don't tell anyone what happened. Do you listen? Don't tell anyone!"  
Troy's intimidating manners just made her cry more. Tears and goo ran down her cheeks and nose and she exposed her tooth gaps, preparing to let out a loud scream. Quickly Troy pushed his hand on her mouth to silence her. "Don't," he hissed. He didn't know how to control her, so he took his gun and held it to her chest. "Don't tell anyone. Mike and I, we have been playing. Nothing more."

His threat worked, to his own surprise. He had come up with a lie about the shot, and Gretchen apparently had lied about taking longer for her way back home. Nothing ever happened, and nothing changed, besides the little girl being a bit more nervous around him. But who would blame her...  
Just a few months later he was expelled from school for threatening another boy with his knife. Everyone knew he was dangerous.

Everyone besides Mike. He had always stayed at Troy's side, not that he had much of another choice. The more Troy was isolated, the more he seemed to focus on his friend of the same age. He was almost obsessed with meeting him after school every day. Jeremiah had already started raising an eyebrow every time Troy left the house to open the gate. Nobody talked about it, but some seemed to suspect Troy was gay for Mike, dropping little hints here and there.

It was in summer of the year after Troy got expelled. Mike had just turned fifteen and Troy had asked him to the stables to celebrate it. A bit nervous, he climbed into an empty horsebox. "Let's run away," he whispered. "Just the two of us."  
Mike stared at him like Troy had lost his mind. "I can't leave my family," he then said, slowly and carefully as not to upset his friend. But Troy's tone got aggressive anyway. "You'd rather lose me than leave them?"

Mike sighed. He was trying to think of a way to turn Troy down without hurting him. "I really wish I could have both, stay here with my family - and with you."  
Knowing that even just the space of room between them could lead to an outburst of anger of his friend, Mike climbed into the horsebox as well. He reached out and touched Troy's arm. At some times Troy had to be handled like a field of mines, one wrong step and he would set off. Sometimes he needed distance to calm down, and sometimes he needed the physical touch to regain his trust. The safest way to deal with Troy could be to mutually insult each other and then leave to give him time to vent, but on other days he needed a strong hug and a shoulder to cry on - secretly - when nobody else would see it.  
Apparently it was one of those days. Troy was more hurt than angry, still in need of comfort, and as soon as Mike's grasp on his arm got tighter, the taller boy turned around and leaned against his friend, forcing himself into a hug. And Mike would provide it - anything to bring about peace.

They were standing close for a moment, Troy's arms around Mike's waist, his head sunken and burrowed in the smaller teen's shoulder. Mike had his hands placed on Troy's back and was giving him some awkward but comforting pats.  
"I need you," Troy whispered against Mike's neck. "I can't deal with all of this alone."  
Mike knew what he meant, they had talked about it before. Tracy was sick again, and it was serious this time. Jeremiah was drinking, and often angry or suspicious of the boys. Phil was about to return to the ranch, while Jake had moved to attend college, and Charlie had started dating a boy at school, so she wasn't around either. It was no wonder Troy was not stable, no wonder he asked to run away.  
Mike could feel Troy's lips against his skin, as the other boy told him bits about the horrors he went through. A couple of times he had mentioned death as an option, and afraid that Troy might do something stupid, Mike stayed close and let him ramble on.

And then, all of a sudden, both could hear it: feet shuffling through the straw on the ground. Troy quickly pulled away, his muscles tensing immediately. Mike froze, unsure how he should react if someone had seen them, in a tight embrace in a hidden place like this.  
A round face appeared at the door of the small cabin, big grey eyes looking at both of the boys. "I'm sorry," Gretchen said quickly. "I didn't want to interrupt you."  
She was considerably taller, compared to a couple years ago. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail and she was wearing flared jeans with flower appliqués.  
Both of the boys sent her death glares. Mike was the first to move, he left the dark hideout and approached his sister. "We didn't do anything, so there's nothing to interrupt. _You didn't see anything,_ right?"

Troy wiped away his tears with his sleeve in the shadows, praying to a god he didn't believe in, that Gretchen didn't see him cry. When the others were quiet and he couldn't hear the girl leave yet, the tall boy approached her slowly, and he formed a gun with his fingers, pointing it to Gretchen's chest. He did that just for a short moment, until Mike turned around - he didn't want his friend to see the gesture. But Gretchen understood. She stumbled backwards for a couple of steps, then turned and ran away. Nobody would ever know where the boys were hiding.

It wouldn't be the last time Troy met her at the stables. Another two years had passed, and once again he was leaning against the wall, waiting for his friend to come join him. Mike was attending high school, and Troy hated it, because it meant he had to spend a lot of time learning, and he would graduate soon, leave him alone to move to college. Sometimes Troy would drive to town, to pick Mike up, to spend at least a little time alone with him. And then they had their times in the desert, just the teen boys and their horses.

But Mike wouldn't show up. It was Gretchen who walked down the hill to meet him, her ponytail bouncing up and down, her nails painted in a soft shade of coral red. She knew of the boys spending their time here in ways nobody else was supposed to hear about. Ever since she surprised them in the horsebox, it had been a secret the three of them shared. That she would come to see him could only mean Mike wasn't going out. And Troy was right - the first thing she told him when she reached the spot, slightly out of breath, was that Mike was busy with an upcoming biology exam.

Troy groaned. It wasn't even Mike's last year, and he had already become a hermit.  
"He wants to study medicine," Gretchen reminded him. "He has to be the best."  
"All right," Troy said, rolling his eyes at Mike's aspirations. He expected Gretchen to leave now, but she didn't. Instead she came closer and stood on tiptoe to place a kiss on his cheek. "Play along," she whispered into his ear. "We're being watched."  
Troy could feel his hackles rise from both her sudden kiss and the prospect of someone witnessing it. "Who?" he hissed back, voice low. "Your dad and mine," was her quick answer, before she placed another kiss on his neck. "Saw them at the porch when I left, they had their spyglasses pointed at you."

Knowing that his father was still spying on him and Mike didn't help Troy to relax. Of course there was nothing he could have seen, But he had punished him for less before. Every hint that he could like another boy could be his doom. Getting beaten up was the least of his worries, but his father had also hinted that he would send him away, make him join the army or put him into a bootcamp. And that was something Troy really didn't fancy.  
He could feel Gretchen's hand wander down the sides of his body, and then reach for his wrists. "Play along and trust me," she said, taking a step backwards and pulling him along to the entrance of the barn. Her neutral expression made way for a faked smile, now that she was facing the houses uphill.

Troy was impressed. He didn't ask for her help, and he assumed Mike didn't either. And yet she stepped in, and did a good job at saving his ass. He closed the door behind them, and looked at Gretchen, not sure what to do next.  
"So... we're dating now," she said, grinning with mischief. She quickly added "I know I'm not your type, but we have to keep the rumors alive."  
She opened her ponytail and ran both of her hands through her hair to mess it up. Troy watched her, not yet getting why she did it. But then she asked him to give her a lovebite and his eyes widened. "No - _no way!_ Gret, you're just _what? Eleven?_ "  
"Twelve," she quickly corrected him.  
"I'm seventeen, they're going to put me to jail," Troy kept protesting.  
Gretchen's smile faded. Her grey eyes suddenly looked dull and sad, like the sky on a rainy day. "No they won't," she said quietly. For a moment she seemed strangely grown up, and as if deep rooted worries were haunting her. Without arguing about it more, she unbuttoned her shirt to expose her neck and shoulder. "Trust me and do it."

It was all she asked from him that day. Troy was still leaning against the wall inside, cheeks flushed from the unusual closeness. He had never kissed anyone before. And Gretchen had always been off limits, even if he had fancied her. Too young, too much of a sister to him.  
He knew she hadn't done it to seduce him. She left with the top buttons of her shirt unbuttoned, so that everyone could see the marks he left on her neck. She was covering up for him and Mike, once again - just this time she was actively doing so, it was far more than a little white lie. She meant to convince their parents.  
"I owe you," he told her, when she opened the door.

Back then he had expected anything - her asking him to bring candy from town, coming up with a lie about her first boyfriend, or helping her burn a failed exam. He didn't expect to wait two years for the settlement, didn't expect the gravity of her request. 

It was winter, the day after Christmas. It had been Troy's worst Christmas - not that he had had any good before. He would never forget the sight of Tracy lying on the floor, cramping, screaming in pain. Or his father draining two bottles of wine all alone, and spending the rest of the night in the bathroom. And Gretchen, puffy cheeks, hair wet from the rain that was falling unusually late the year. She didn't need to say anything, the despair in her eyes spoke volumes. "Hide me," she whispered.  
Troy's parents were both asleep, and yet he turned around, to see if anyone watched them. "Basement," he said quietly, and made a nodding gesture to a spot across the path in front of the house. He left the house with her and closed the door behind him. 

Down in the basement was the pantry and storage, but hidden behind a row of filled shelves were doors to a couple extra rooms. Back when the ranch was planned, Vernon and Jeremiah had designed them so that their families had some extra space to hide in case of a catastrophe. Most people didn't know they exist, and the founding fathers didn't know Troy had discovered them - back when his mother would lock him in down there.  
Gretchen had proven herself to be trustworthy as a secret keeper, and so Troy didn't hesitate to show her what he knew. He pushed the shelf aside as much as needed for them both to sneak in. Standing in the open door, he pulled it back in place.

"You're safe here," he said, breaking the silence between them. Gretchen nodded. She threw her arms around him, pressed her face against his chest and started crying again.  
Troy didn't need to ask. He had seen the telltale signs of abuse. The wide red stripes on her arms signaling belt slaps. Oval marks along her neck and jaw, five for the five fingers of a hand. Troy lifted her hair to reveal the other side, where the dark bruises of someone trying to strangle her were even more visible. This was Phil McCarthy's handwriting and it pained Troy to see that she had to go through the same as he did.  
Troy had never been good at comforting others. He held her in a strong embrace and pet her back softly, but went awkwardly quiet again.

"Can I stay here?" she asked after a while, her voice strangely high-pitched and hoarse. Troy nodded. "Well I guess I can just cover up for a night or two, at most. But you can return whenever you want, I don't mind it." Eyeing her from head to toe, he asked "What did he-" but Gretchen just shook her head and buried her face in her hands.

The next days Troy brought some blankets, candles, and even an old armchair down to the basement, so Gretchen had it comfortable whenever she needed the place. The two of them were the only teens left at the ranch. Everyone else had moved for work, college or the army, and so they declared the secret room their _young people headquarters_.

"Soon you'll turn twenty," Gretchen said, a faint smile on her lips, while they were celebrating New Year's with some cookies and lemonade. "I'll have to deny you access."  
Troy rolled his eyes. "That's bullshit." He nudged her side. "You need my company. And it's still four months to my birthday." But then his expression got serious. "Gabe will turn thirteen next year, so he'll qualify and replace me."  
For the first time since they came to that place, Gretchen let out a soft chuckle. "It's like yesterday he still had baby teeth."  
Troy stared at her, looked into her beautiful grey eyes. She had grown up so soon. She was just fourteen herself, but her eyes looked tired, her nails brittle. "It's like yesterday you were running around with your dress pulled up like this," he said, trying to cheer her up. He pulled up his shirt to his armpits, revealing his bare chest.  
"Oh my god, don't tell me that," she laughed. "Actually, don't tell anyone!"  
She rose a hand, haltingly, but then formed a gun with her fingers and pointed it at Troy's chest, just like he had done to her as a child. Troy didn't move, he just looked at her hand, and then fixed his gaze on her eyes again. She felt a bit nervous, insecure due to the young man's charisma.  
Troy wasn't sure how to react himself. He almost said she should do it, shoot him, but it would have destroyed their happy moment. And so, a crooked grin on his lips, he told her "But everyone already knows."  
"Gabe doesn't," she quickly replied and Troy had to admit she made a point.

Even without Gretchen sending Troy away, he didn't visit her often when he turned twenty. First Mike, Coop and Charlie returned for summer break, and on an unfortunate day in autumn, his mother passed away. He isolated himself again, and Gretchen, not sure if he still wanted to be friends, didn't dare to break through to him. She watched him from a distance, noticed how he was hanging out with the new guy - Blake - next spring. And she really spent more time with Gabe.

"Is it really okay, if I bring Gabe to the _headquarters_?" Gretchen asked Troy one afternoon. He was repairing the roof of the stables, and the teen girl had climbed the ladder to sit next to him, letting her legs dangle down. The young man didn't answer, instead he returned a question. "You and Gabe, 'that a thing?"  
Gretchen blushed and looked away. No it wasn't. And it probably wouldn't ever be, because Gabe was awkward and insecure and missed his opportunities, and Gretchen wasn't sure if she even really wanted it, or if it was just her hormones going crazy. "There is another guy I like," she confessed, still not looking at Troy.  
"Well, you know, I-" Troy tilted his head and shielded his eyes from the blinding sun.  
"Not you," Gretchen interrupted him. Now she looked at him, smiling softly. "Not an option. I know that- I mean- you and Mike. Did you?"  
Troy shrugged, and replaced the next roof tile. "Did what? We're friends."  
"You were more than friends," Gretchen insisted. But Troy just shrugged again, grinning to himself. He changed the topic back to her love interest. "So you like someone. Who is it?"

Gretchen let her feet dangle some more, and watched them. Troy let a broken tile drop down, and it shattered on the floor. They both let out a chuckle at that. Then he offered his younger friend one of the tiles, and she took it and threw it down with a little more force. "He is an idiot and he will never know!" she yelled down the roof, laughing some more.

Troy sat down next to her. He took one of her hands in his, and formed them to a gun gesture. "You know, normal kids use their pinkies," she commented on it. But she knew what Troy meant. She could still remember every single of their encounters that they used this for. "You first," she insisted.  
With a sigh, Troy tried to explain it. "I like your brother. But he- we- we were just fooling around. I'm not into dating, you know." Gretchen rolled her eyes at that, knowing very well that Mike had been dating girls and that Troy would be much into it if he had more opportunities. But she didn't dig deeper, she knew her limits. He had already told her more than anyone else.  
"Well," she started, looking at her friend and then quickly down to her feet again. "It's Jake."  
Troy swallowed and looked at her feet as well. "That's quite a gap."  
"Eleven years," she agreed. "Silly, ain't it?"  
Troy shook his head and squeezed her hand in his. He wouldn't judge her or tell anyone.

Gretchen invited Troy to Gabe's basement baptism. They had prepared some dares for the younger boy, so he could prove himself worthy of it. Like always, Troy went a bit far - he brought a rattlesnake in a cardboard box and let it free in the room, ordering Gabe to catch and kill it. But Gretchen played along. In the worst case they had an antivenom at the infirmary.  
Much harder for Gabe was the dare to eat a spoon full of _Old Russell's Sperm_ \- which was really egg white, salt and potato flour. Gretchen told the pale boy the truth, so that he didn't throw up in their hideout. He said it was disgusting either way and that he would never see Russell through the same eyes again, but Gretchen and Troy had a good laugh about it and agreed that once Terrance turned thirteen he had go through the same.

Gabe had brought his guitar, and when they all calmed down again, he sat down and played a few songs. "You could start a band," Troy suggested. "Yeah and I play the triangle," Gretchen said sarcastically. Gabe was the only of them who could actually play an instrument.  
Troy shrugged. "At least you'd have an alibi to stay down in the basement so often." 

Later the year Troy bought himself a used bass guitar at town. He was eager to learn to play and actually make music with Gretchen and Gabe, but it was at that time that Jeremiah decided to put him in charge of some departments on the ranch. And so Troy was busy training the residents in combat and taking stock at the basement. Sometimes he could hear Gabe play the guitar in the adjacent room, and his heart stung a little.

Troy didn't enter the _headquarters_ anymore after a while. With Terrance in, he truly felt too old and was too much of an outsider. Gretchen looked happier those days, having a group of friends her age suited her well.  
And then the shit hit the fan.  
Far out in the desert, they didn't get in touch with the infected right from the start. Troy discovered the first of them after a good week, and he brought his head back home. Maybe if his father had been sober, he would have told him. Maybe if his friends had been a bit more interested, he would have shown them. But as things were, Jeremiah and Phil drunk and violent, and nobody really caring for what Troy did, he hid the head in a birdcage up in the attic.

The next morning he met Gretchen in the kitchen tent. She gave him a smile, but it quickly faded when she saw his bruised face. She poured him a cup of coffee, and then, passing it to him, she offered "Wanna meet me at the _headquarters_?"  
Troy was about to decline. He understood that she wanted to do him a favor in the same style he had done to her when he had shown her the place, but it wasn't his room anymore. But then he realized it could be his chance to deal with that problem he had, grumbling in its cage, and he nodded slightly before sitting down at the table with his friends.

He appeared in the dark little room at lunch break. Gretchen was there already, waiting for him, scribbling something in candle light. "Recipes," she mumbled. "- for cupcakes." He didn't question it.  
She quickly looked up to him and met his eyes. "Phil, huh?" she asked in an understanding tone. Troy shook his head. "It was old Otto but that's not why I'm here."

When he put the birdcage on the table in front of her and the rotting head started hissing and grunting, her eyes widened. "You brought one _in_?" she asked, voice so high from excitement that it turned into a whisper.  
"Yeah I need him stored down here. Nobody knows." Troy let himself drop on one of the seats. Gretchen's eyes seemed to shine brighter every second she looked at the disembodied head. "So it's another secret?"  
The young man took a few deep breaths. "You know I'm carrying a gun again. And you know I'd use it." Gretchen rolled her eyes. "I'm just joking." She made a gesture with her fingers near her lips, symbolizing a zipper getting closed. Then she tilted her head and smiled, lips pressed together.

"Really though," she broke her silence again, when she noticed Troy relax. "I feel honored to provide a home for this lost soul." She turned to face the head. "Do you have a name?"  
The head just grunted some more. "Does he have a name?" Gretchen repeated her question, this time directed at Troy. He shrugged. Placing her hands on her hips and raising an eyebrow in faked concern, she declared "That's sad. He needs a name. A story."  
"It's just- you know, he's dead," Troy reminded her, but she didn't settle for it. "It's his second life on this planet, and from now on he shall go by the name of Geoffrey." Turning back to the undead skull, she added "I'll call you Geoff."

Some minutes passed, in which Gretchen just walked around the cage and watched the thing inside try to turn and to hiss at her. Troy took out his notebook and a pen. "Where's his body?" she asked all of a sudden, as if she just realized it was missing.  
"I cut it off," Troy replied nonchalantly. Gretchen gasped, acting shocked. "That's not nice of you. What do you think Geoff? Is Troy a bad guy?"  
The young man just grimaced and opened his book.

Gretchen sat back down at the table. She rested her head on her forearms and kept watching Geoff, but she switched the topic of their conversation. "Mike is back. Aren't you happy about it?"  
Troy shrugged again. "Jake is back, too."  
"I know," Gretchen said, tracing the bars of the cage with one finger. Troy was about to tell her to be careful, but then noticed she wasn't in danger. Geoff couldn't move, the girl was just enjoying to play with fire.  
"Mike he- we didn't talk much. He seems down," Troy finally answered her question.  
"He doesn't talk much with anyone. The end of the world really gets to him," she said.

They talked some more, about their brothers, the apocalypse, catching up with each other. The sun was sinking already when they both left the basement. "Take care," she told him, while she gave him a quick hug and a peck on his bruised jaw. She took the path down to the center of the settlement while he crossed the space to his father's house.  
Neither of them knew that it would be the last time they met in peace, that one of them wouldn't survive their next secret.


End file.
